


Life Sentence

by happygolovely



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempt at Humor, Attempted Murder, Blackmail, Emotional Manipulation, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Legal Drama, M/M, Moral Ambiguity, Power Dynamics, Requited Unrequited Love, The Gotham Legal System Is Two Grenades Tied Together, Trials, Unhealthy Relationships, dubious consent kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-05-02 00:11:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14532435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happygolovely/pseuds/happygolovely
Summary: “Edward Nygma, you are under arrest for the murder of Oswald Cobblepot.”His lawyer consults with him. Tells him to plead not guilty by reason of insanity. Ed is not insane. He has a certificate.The lawyer warns that the prosecution has a killer witness.And a killer they were indeed.





	1. 1. Trials & Tribulations

Crying in public was never something he enjoyed. The last time he had allowed himself to do so was in elementary school. They had stolen his book and broken the spine. Hot tears streaming down his face and he took his glasses off angrily wiping them. Blind with rage and frustration. He launched himself at his attackers and punched one in the face. Broke his nose. It made a satisfying sound beneath his hand. Retribution: swift and certain.  

 

He put his glasses back on and smiled. Blood dripping down the boy’s face. The wrong boy.  

Hasty and reckless. An error in judgment. He promised he would never allow his emotions to control him again. To direct his anger towards those who truly deserved it.

 

Over the years, he broke this promise many times. Getting the better of himself and bringing out the worst. None so much as Oswald. Oswald, who saw him in all of his horror and humanity.

Who knew that cruelty and kindness were cut from the same cloth. Never so much himself as when they were together. For worse, for worse-er. The worst yet to come.

 

He shot him and heard the sound of a bone breaking. Impossible to say which of them it belonged to. Possibly both. The water staining his glasses. Salt to salt. Left him to drown. Water overtaking him. Returned to the first home he had ever really known. The master bedroom still smelled like him. He ran his fingers over the cane on the bedside table. Broke it in half and dug the wood under his skin. Replaced his bones with ashwood, blood for saltwater. Laid in his bed, a handkerchief pressed against his mouth. Cried until morning. Fell asleep in his bed.

 

Unable to move. Unable to think.

 

Hollowed in half.

 

Took a hat off his shelf and carried it around for days on end.

 

The memory of water. Everything he touched slid away, fingertips covered in blood.

 

All this for a spine. All that once was mine. He loved and he loved and he lost.

 

Even in death, Oswald defeated him.  

 

Vengeance his axis without it to revolve around he spun wildly. Careening.

Directionless and destined to fall. The official funeral was to be held on a Saturday.

 

She never had one of those. One needs to live before they can die.  

 

The city mourned him as it was wont to do: with blood and bluster. The death of a king marked by a pyre. The body remained missing. They burned him in effigy.

 

The likeness was shoddy and unflattering. Oswald would have loathed it entirely.

 

Good.  

Ed stood in the alleyway and watched him disappear into smoke which mixed with the smog of the city. The ashes stained his forehead.

 

Planned the ceremony down to the minute. Elaborate and elegant. In the gardens of the mansion. Oswald often liked to sit by the pond. Casting pebbles into the quiet. Ed looked into the water.

 

It was rippling.

 

Greeted people as they arrived, many of whom seemed to be laboring under the impression that he was more grieving spouse than anything else. He didn’t correct them.

 

They were wrong of course. And in another truer sense not at all.

 

He grieved.

 

The woman who died again and again. The friend who wasn’t and was all at once.  

 

He gave the eulogy, a lily pinned to his lapel.  

 

“There has never and never will be his equal. Unparalleled. Unprecedented. Nothing could have ever prepared this city for such a man. He is, he was, he remains - the heart of Gotham. His bones, our bedrock. Today we bury Gotham itsel-”  

 

Up the garden path came Jim Gordon followed by the G.C.P.D.

 

“Edward Nygma, you are under arrest for the murder of Oswald Cobblepot.”  

 

He laughed and laughed until he fell to the ground. The lily from his suit crushed into the grass. The pond rippled and roared, a tidal wave. Let Oswald have the last word.

 

He was still the last man standing.

 

* * *

 

They riddled him for hours. Questioned him on his movements for the past two months. He said nothing without the presence of an attorney. They slammed his head against the interrogation room glass until it cracked. His head and the glass.

 

Jim came in and offered him a plea deal. “We know what you did to him. Your fingerprints are all over him and I’ve got a dozen affidavits signed by members of your staff. Barbara Kean called in with some interesting information as well. Only thing we can’t figure is motive. You two looked pretty cozy last I checked. What happened?”

 

“Oswald is dearer to me than anyone in the world. I would never hurt him.”  

 

He snorted. “Bet you said the same thing about Kristen.”  

 

“Don’t you dare say her name, you don’t have the right to disrespect her memory.”  

 

“Yeah, I’d say you respected her pretty well with your hands around her throat but what do I know. I’m just the only one in the room whose never killed the person they loved.”  

 

“You kill every day in increments. Until death becomes preferable to your presence.”  

 

“So that’s what happened. You grew tired of him. Understandable, he was a real pill-”  

 

Ed slammed his fist against the table.“You don’t get to talk about him. Not now, not ever.”  

 

“Fine. I’ll let the DA do the talking. See you at the trial.” Jim started to leave and turned back at the last moment. “For the record, last time someone shot him by the river he turned back up in less than a week. Next time, leave him in the desert.”

 

They throw him in lockup. He stays there for hours, days. The sound of water dripping from the ceiling. It hit his head. He moves to another corner of the cell.

 

The water follows him wherever he goes.

 

They drag him out of the station a week later. Into the courthouse. Along the street, people lined up to catch a glimpse of him. Banners and signs. He became a controversial figure overnight. Murdering the mayor will do that to a person. His hands cuffed in front of him. He bent low in a bow and picked up a flower in his mouth. Thorns between his teeth. Smiles red at the crowd.

 

They force him to sit until the judge arrives. District Attorney Harvey Dent and Jim Gordon on the other side of the room, heads bent together hands full of papers. Harvey smiles and waves at Ed with genuine friendliness. Jim pulls his arm down.The court-appointed lawyer is a timid thing. Mousy and misplaced. More suited to stenography than criminal defense.

 

He took what he could get which wasn’t much at all.  

 

Judge Holloway arrived.

 

The trial began. The People of Gotham vs. Edward Nygma.  

 

* * *

 

His lawyer consults with him. Tells him to plead not guilty by reason of insanity. Ed is not insane. He has a certificate. The lawyer gives him up as a lost cause. Warns that the prosecution has a killer witness.

On the third day of the trial, they bring them in to testify.

 

The doors of the courthouse open and Oswald Cobblepot walks in.

 

Ed springs up from his seat and the guards hold him down. Oswald leans in to whisper in his ear. “There, there. Play along now, darling.” Kisses his cheek and it burns through the skin.  

 

Takes the stand. Harvey and Jim exchange worried looks. Oswald smooths down his suit.

Swears in on a map of Gotham. Something he actually believes in.  

 

“Mister Cobblepot -”

 

“Mayor, if you would. I haven’t lost my position yet.”  

 

Harvey blinks. “You intend to reclaim your office after everything that’s happened?”  

 

“The people have realized what they almost lost. They won’t make the same mistake twice.”  

 

“Back to the matter at hand - could you describe the events of the night you were shot?”  

 

“Which time, it’s happened so frequently - oh you mean this little misunderstanding. Edward and I met at a warehouse on the waterfront to discuss purchasing the land. I got a little tied up for awhile and met him later at Sirens for a night out with the girls. He took me to the river.”  

 

“He shot you?”  

 

“He shot me. It was rapturous. Sublime.” Oswald sighs happily. “He really knows how to show a girl a good time.”  

Harvey’s eyes widen. “Are you implying that thi-”  

 

He laughs. “How do I put this delicately...Edward and I enjoy a certain amount of friendly fire. Keeps things interesting.”

 

Harvey goes back to Jim and they whisper frantically.

 

“We ask the court for a recess to process this new information before we continue the trial.”

 

Oswald stands up. “No need. I’m alive. Consider the charges dropped.” He steps down from the stand and snags Ed by the arm, pulling him away. “The GCPD unlawfully seized my property, I’ll be taking it home now.” He drags Ed out of the courtroom ignoring the shouts of protest.

Ed stops them in a secluded corner, wraps the chains binding his hands together around his neck.

 

“What. Do. You. Want. From. Me.”  

 

Oswald presses up into the chains, up against him.

 

“All I ever wanted was you. You had to make it difficult. Now we’re doing this my way.”  

 

“I’ll never love you.”  

 

“I don’t need your love. I need your compliance. Tell me, what happens to you without me? They will put you in jail and do terrible things to you, things that you deserve. I have lied for you, I have killed for you. I will do terrible things to you. Things you will enjoy.”

 

Ed gasps. Oswald smiles.“You’re not ready yet. That’s alright. I’ll be waiting.”

 

“I’ll never be yours.”

 

“You are. In their eyes at least.” Oswald turns his head and looks around the corner.

 

“The city is waiting for us. Don’t disappoint.”  

 

Ed grits his teeth and unwraps the chains. They walk to the entrance.

Oswald holds out his hand and opens the door. Lights flash.

 

“You’re with me now. Publicly. Smile for the cameras, dear.”

 

* * *

 

They begin relationship negotiations. Draw out a contract. Murder is off the table for the duration of the trial. Public displays of affection limited to hand-holding and hugs. Private displays of affection prohibited. Separate beds, separate lives. Theirs is to be cold and distant. Dinner once a week at the mansion. Host will supply the wine. No outer relationships, no secondary interests.

 

Oswald will resume his post and Ed will assist him in any manner he deems fit.

 

Ed finds these terms unacceptable.

 

“The trial could be extended as much as you like with your connections. You have me under house arrest essentially. I fail to see how this arrangement benefits me.”  

 

Oswald folds his hands together. “What can I do to make you happy?”  

 

“Die. Failing that, I’d like a lawyer. A proper one. Complete autonomy. You will not monitor my movements, you will not control my life. If you want the office back, get it yourself. Dinner is acceptable provided there’s a taste tester of my choosing.”  

 

“I’m not going to poison you. I have a vested interest in keeping you alive.”  

 

“And then there’s that. No untoward advances. Any physicality between us will be initiated by myself and will only be for the purposes of maintaining this facade.”  

 

“Naturally. That being said I do intend to win you. Whatever means necessary.”  

 

“You’re certainly welcome to fail. Now I have other conditions.”  

 

Slides him a sheet of paper. The list is extensive and needlessly expensive. He will drain all of his resources and leave him penniless. The Riddler is not a cheap date.  

 

Oswald looks over the demands and smiles to himself. Ed still doesn’t know the vastness of his wealth. This list barely accounts for even a fifth of it. He sighs and acts chagrined.

 

“No, really, that is much too much. I couldn’t possibly.”  

 

“If you really loved me, you would do this. You’d do anything.”

 

Glares at him. “I’ll show you. I’ll show you what it is to be loved without reservation or reason.”  

 

“Love’s not really the word for what you do. More like suffocation.”  

 

Oswald leans back in his chair. “I suppose you would know - you are rather _breathtaking_.”

 

Drinks his wine and his self-satisfaction. Ed tears it out of his hand and pours it on the floor. Breaks the glass against the table, just jagged edges and stem remaining.

Holds it up and turns it over consideringly.

 

“We agreed not to kill each other. Nothing else is stopping me from driving this into your skull if you ever so much as think her name again.”  

 

Waves his hand dismissively. “I’ve already forgotten her. Soon you will too.”  

 

“There’s nothing you could ever do to achieve that.”  

 

Oswald pulled the broken glass from his hand and tossed it into the fire. “Is that so, tell me did she have a last name? This great love of yours.”  

 

He blinks. “It never came up.”  

 

“How interesting. All this for a woman and you can’t even tell me her name.”

 

“Her name was Kris-abella. Kristabella.” He shook his head. “Stop that. You’re confusing me.”  

 

Oswald looked at him pityingly, the way one may look at a child who has lost their favorite toy.

 

“Fine. I’ll keep her names out of my mouth. Provided you do the same.”  

 

Ed nods somewhat preoccupied with the naming of things. Flynn. It was Flynn, wasn’t it?

 

In truth, he spent more time grieving her than he ever spent in her company.

 

Like a novel abandoned halfway through the first chapter, the novelty of it is that it's unfinished.  

 

Promise unfilled is better than a broken one. And they don’t get much more broken than the man sitting beside him now. Such a fool to think he was anything more than a switchblade inside skin.

 

Looks over the contract and makes amendments. Oswald tried to sneak in a marriage clause claiming it was for spousal privilege. Spousal privilege only applies to crimes committed after the marriage, it's of no use in this situation. Oswald knows this as well as he does. Crosses it out. Signs and initials over fifty pages. Oswald does the same. The document illegally binding.

They have an accord. Oswald will provide an alibi for the night of his own murder and the funding for Ed’s legal defense. In exchange, Ed will suffer his company. For now.

 

Soon enough his trial will end. Oswald’s trials only just beginning.

 

* * *

 

It is not very difficult to convince the public he’s in love with Oswald. In fact, it is remarkably easy. A brush of the hands, a glance. A whisper in his ear as the trial reconvenes.

 

People see what they want to.

 

They are bombarded outside the courthouse with questions and requests for interviews. Oswald surprises him by declining. He was sure he would want to make a spectacle of this whole thing. Embarrass him publicly and further seal his humiliation. Instead, he plays the lover reconciled.

 

Still shows him off of course. A smug, self-satisfied smile as he links their arms and holds the limousine door open. Glaringly gallant. A mockery of chivalry. An undercurrent of sincerity at the heart of it. He doesn’t understand this nebulous place forming between fact and fiction.

 

They walk into the courtroom arm in arm. Oswald twirls his cane happily. Ed grimaces.

 

Misery loves company but he’s not good company to keep.

 

Jim glares and marches up to them. “I don’t know what you two think you’re doing but you’re not fooling anyone. Drop the act.”

 

Ed puts his hand over his heart and gasps, affronted. “How dare you, Detective Gordon - Oswald and I are very much in love. Isn’t that right, turtledove?”

 

Oswald jabs him viciously with his cane.“You couldn’t be more right, my dear. Now James if you will excuse us, we have more important people to talk to. Namely, anyone who isn’t you.”

 

Ed leaves to go talk to his new lawyer Cyrus Taylor. Gotham’s most infamous attorney. A hatchet man who carries hatchets to court. Ed admires the edge of it and they trade blade stories.

 

Jim grabs onto Oswald’s shoulder as he starts to walk away. “He’s not worth lying for.”

 

Oswald shakes his hand off him. “He’s worth everything. And more. Don’t presume to understand what we are to each other. You barely understand yourself.”

 

“I understand enough to know there’s no coming back from what he did to you.”  

 

His smile turns bitter and bare.

 

“Haven’t you heard? I was asking for it. Only a matter of time till I got what I deserved.”  

 

“No one deserves that. Not even you.”

 

Oswald scowls and pushes him away. “Mind your place. This is no concern of yours.”  

 

“I’m worried about you. It’s not like you to let someone walk all over you.”  

 

“I’d take the bite of his heel in my back over your condescension any day.”  

 

The judge enters the room and Oswald quickly walks away from the conversation.

 

He’s had enough of stubborn men and their self-centered views of justice.  

 

They call him to the stand once more and this time they are better prepared.

 

The nature of their relationship is called into question and honestly, it's questionable at best.

 

Oswald does what he has always done best: manipulate the truth just enough. Lie the lies on their sides and stack them together until they form something resembling reality.  

 

He spins stories of quiet talks in the park and walking after dark. Soft-spoken confessions and shared sorrows. A deeper understanding that stretches down into the bones.

 

They’ve been together for ten months. They have almost survived a year of each other.

 

Tragedy strikes.

 

Not a crime of passion, simply a lover’s misfire.

 

_never meant to hurt me doesn’t know his own strength an accident there’s been some mistake_

 

The best liars always believe what they’re telling you.

 

If Ed didn’t know better he’d believe it too. Just enough truth at the heart of it.

 

Is that what Oswald sees when he looks at him? Is that why he fell in lo-

 

It can’t be love. Not after all this.

 

This is something else.

 

Possession perhaps. Obsession.

 

Ed locks eyes with him.  

 

Oswald’s smile is as kind as a crime and twice as sincere.

 

“Whatever you may think of him, may think of these events let me reassure you: it was a mutually assured seduction. I was complicit in my own destruction possibly more so than him. Don’t be too harsh on the man, I brought this on myself and I would do so again. Gladly.”  

 

Harvey looks at him disbelieving and Jim’s eyebrows hit a light on their way to the ceiling.

 

“You’d let him shoot you twice?”  

 

“Yes. Yes, of course.”

 

_it doesn’t matter if he’s torturing me as long as he’s touching me_

 

Ed leaves the courtroom, evading the guards posted outside.  

 

Slips into the restroom and clutches the side of the sink with shaking hands.

 

Splashes cold water on his face and it smells like sewage, like the river of Gotham.  

 

He looks up and meets his own reflection.  

 

_killed for you died for you everyone always leaves but he keeps coming back_

 

“He’s a glutton for punishment, that’s all.”  

 

_he is the only one who ever survived loving us_

 

“Oswald doesn’t love us. He needs us. Wants us. He’s not capable of anything more.”

 

_neither are we and yet here we are lovelorn and lonesome and look at that! he’s just the same_

 

“We. Are. Nothing. Alike.”  

 

_he’s as much of you as i am except you chose him - and you want him just as bad as i do_

 

“Irrelevant. I also want to drive a screwdriver through my skull but that doesn’t mean I’ll do it.”  

 

Riddler whistles low and unimpressed. _ho boy a good screw outta do it now that you mention it_

 

Ed bangs his fist against the mirror and Riddler laughs.

 

“You’re disgusting. You debase everything, degrade it to its lowest possible form, undermine the most significant relationships in my lif-”

 

Riddler’s smile stretches and stretches. s _ignificance is circumstantial and you’re still guilty_  

 

“Yes I killed him, we killed hi-”  

 

_not of that, though that as well, your crimes are as follows: ignorance, arrogance, folly and falling for the machinations of a madman. your greatest crime? love or lack thereof_

 

“I don’t love him.”  

 

_you don’t and he will never forgive you for it. neither will i._

 

“What do you expect me to do - run into his arms? Sign an armistice?”  

 

_he’d do anything for us. use that._

 

Ed smiles at himself and his mirror self smiles back. Finally, they are in agreement on something.  

 

The door of the restroom opens and Ed starts to walk out.  

 

A reporter shoves a microphone in his face. “Mister Nygma, any thoughts on the unusual proceedings of this trial? Your defense seems to consist of a declaration of -”  

 

He walks away without a word and slams the door in his wake.

 

That line of questioning wasn’t living up to the standards of the ultimate questioner.  

 

He sneaks back into the courtroom and Oswald is in the middle of a rousing speech. True love never dies and all that rot. He notices Ed’s return and sends a quick wink his way before launching into a full out ode to Ed, a ‘love that burns with the passion of a thousand AK- 47s.’

 

Ed snorts. Oswald barely contains his own laughter and switches into some highly lyrical, very loving - Harvey cuts him off. Jim drags him off the witness stand as quick as he can.

 

The Judge looks at him disapprovingly.

 

“You’re disrupting these proceedings, Mister Cobblepot. We ask that you conduct yourself with more decorum and refrain from any extemporaneous speeches or you be held in contempt.”  

 

Oswald grins. He’s been contemptible his entire life, it's about time he got the recognition he is due. He nods solemnly and hangs his head in mock contrition.

 

“Forgive me, I’m afraid my feelings got the better of me. It’s just that when I think of my dear, sweet Ed locked up with those criminals -” Tears spring. “Oh, it’s just too too awful.”  

 

Ed stands up and wraps an arm around his shoulders. Oswald cries loudly and Ed runs soothing circles on his back. He looks up at the judge imploringly and gestures at his inconsolable partner.

 

“Perhaps, we could reconvene tomorrow at a better time. This whole ordeal is a bit much for him. Such a delicate disposition.” Oswald laughs quietly against Ed’s shirt and disguises it with another well-timed wail. Jim rolls his eyes. The jury looks sympathetic.

 

The judge waves them away, happy to have them gone.  

 

As soon as the doors of the courtroom close, they detangle themselves and Oswald wipes false tears from his eyes, checking his reflection in a nearby window.

 

He turns back to grin at Ed over his shoulder. “Good luck following that.”

 

Ed crowds up behind him to adjust his hair in the mirror and Oswald visibly shudders.

 

This will be all too easy by far. It’s not even fair. Since when does fair matter a whit.

 

Ed leans back on his heels and smiles.

 

“I’d like to go over our defense strategy. Tonight. Your place?”  

 

Oswald turns bright and brimming with barely restrained hope. “Yes, that sounds.. agreeable.”

 

In such a state, Oswald would agree to just about anything. How humiliating.

 

How delightful.

 

* * *

 

Oswald takes him back to the mansion, removes his jacket and rolls up his shirt sleeves. Fetches them both a cup of tea. Oswald presses the warmth into his hands and Ed sips it up.

 

Drinks up every last drop of honey laced affection.

 

He doesn’t mean to bask in it but it consumes him slowly.  

 

Their public-private life enveloping him. Too close for comfort.  

 

“We should do the interview.” Ed needs this, needs the charade of it established thoroughly. Cannot fall through the cracks in their facade and into him.

 

Oswald drinks his tea. “No, we shouldn’t. They would ask about your feelings for me. Seeing as those feelings consist of rage and disgust it’s best for you to stay quiet. Smile, look pretty. Is that too difficult for you to manage?”  

 

“I can be very convincing.”  

 

“Prove it. Right here. Now. Make me think it’s real and I’ll let you fake it.”  

Moves over on the couch next to him. Stretches his arm around his shoulders tentatively. Oswald drags him in closer. Readjusts his grip on him. Lays his head on Ed’s shoulder. Ed is paralyzed. Stop motion. Hair tickling up against his neck, heat under his hands.

 

They stay like that just a little too long.

 

“I suppose at some point I’ll have to kiss you.” Ed muses, wondering about the logistics.

Head to the left, to the right, how much, how long.

 

How long does he have to keep pretending?

 

Oswald’s breath against his neck. “Hmmm, needs must, better kiss me quick. For practice.”

 

He ducks down and presses a faint peck to his cheek. Oswald laughs. Ed moves back as quick as possible. “There. That ought to do it.”

 

Oswald feels the imprint of the kiss against his cheek.“Not good enough. Again. More.”

 

“That’s the best you’ll get from me. I don’t know what else you expected.”  

 

Oswald glares at him. “Sell it or suffer.”  

 

“Jail it is then. I can’t think of any greater suffering than you.”  

 

_not even her death? am i so much worse than all that_

 

He quickly rearranges his deck and pulls out a trump card. “Allow me to save you from the consequences of my actions. You deserve to have your freedom, I deserve forgiveness.”

 

Ed considers it briefly and dismisses it as a blatant lie. “Penguins don’t change their spots.”  

 

“I don’t expect to ever recover what we once had but I can do this for you now. This and anything else you might ask. There’s nothing I would deny you.”  

 

“Promise to never see me again when this is over. Promise I’ll be free of you.”  

 

Oswald winces. “If that’s what you want.” He holds his hand out to shake and Ed uses it drag him down on the couch on top of him. Oswald’s other hand braced against the couch for support, legs spread, with his knees on either side of Ed’s frame. He looks down at Ed, happy to drown in him. Ever searching for water in a desert. The illusion of it. Drink it all in, die from the scarcity.

 

No one in Ed’s entire life has ever looked at him like that.

Like he’s something great and terrible and awe-inspiring. Like he something worth something.

 

“Let’s get this over with.” He pulls Oswald down by his lapel and jams their noses together in his haste. Oswald laughs awkwardly and tries to move but Ed won’t let him. He’ll have it his way for once. He doesn’t get to dictate the terms of their tenderness. Doesn’t get any tenderness at all.

 

Kisses him furious. Frustrated. All of the rage and righteous indignation. All of the devotion and decimation. Covet and keep, six feet under the sheets. He refuses to die and Ed cannot live, not without this. Kisses him deeper and wonders why he never thought to kill him in this way.

 

Oswald is whimpering slightly, his hands unsure where to move. Eyes wide open and frightened. Ed breaks the kiss and glares at him. Pulls Oswald’s hands to his hips. “You can do better.”

 

He tries his best but it's becoming readily apparent that he has no idea what he is doing. Could it be - Ed had always presumed - look at him now though - so unsteady and unsure of himself.  

 

_hopeful helpless half gone already_

 

It would be the easiest thing in the world to push him further. A good man would stop kissing him, wouldn’t derive so much pleasure from his pitiful attempts. Ed Nygma is not a good man.  

 

Instead, he reverses their positions, shoving him down against the cushions.

 

Presses his advantage, pressing their skin together.

 

Inexperienced and isolated, starved for affection and attention. Pliable. So very, very pliable.

 

He smiles into the kiss and counts the ways he’s going to destroy him. If he gets this worked up over something this small, think of how easy he will be to control.

 

If only Ed had known sooner.

 

The proper way to kill him. Oswald dying steady and sure in his arms. A death shared between them. Ed’s hands smooth out over the fabric and move to his neck, wrap around it. Oswald makes a soft, surprised noise and presses up into the touch, eager and enthused. Ed groans.

 

He sounds remarkably like Is-

 

His grip tightens. Oswald struggles for breath. Ed steals it out of his mouth with a kiss/kill, pulls the grief from his body and mangles it. Twists and corrupts his lungs.  

 

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it? This is what you killed for.”  

“Not like this, Ed pleas-”  

 

One last, harsh kiss. Choke on codependency.

 

He pushes him down by the throat and gets off the couch. Runs his fingers through his hair and turns back to look at him. A mistake that. Oswald’s eyes blown wide, hair disheveled.

 

Throat bared like an offering. The faintest bruises around his neck.

 

Ed wants to press them deeper, pull the prints and frame them.

 

_leave my mark on gotham once and for all, claim every inch of it as my own_

 

Wipes the pain from his mouth off with the back of his hand. “Good night, Oswald.”  

 

He goes to his old room and lies down on the bed. Closes his eyes and tries to think of her.

Tries to think of anything that isn’t him. An impossible, thankless task.

 

He can’t summon up the reserves to hate him entirely, not in his entirety. There is so much to loathe and to love, worship and desecrate. His hands burning and he reaches up for his own neck, pretending that it’s Oswald strangling him. If he had stayed longer, what would they have done?

 

Pulse pounding through the walls of the house, heartbeat left somewhere in the living room.

 

Half to half. Hurt to hurt. They cut and cleanse and cauterize.

 

Is it wonderful the ways we find to salt our wounds? Love scrapes our throats on its way down.

 

As soon as this is over, he’s going to kill Oswald Cobblepot. The right way.

 

He falls asleep, secure in the knowledge of his impending demise.  

 

It’s about the only thing he’s sure of these days.

 

* * *

 

Oswald sits on the couch, hand around his neck. Fingertips seared into him. Pride and security.

He’ll win out in the end. He pours himself a glass of sherry and drinks to his future victory. All the obstacles in his path removed safe one. The ghost of a librarian needs to be exorcised.

 

He needs to make a grand gesture. A public service. No that would strike at once as being self-serving. Love is selfless or so he’s told. Something noble, something Ed would do.

 

Grins and sketches out his plans. Sacrifice a pawn, sacrifice a king. Whatever is needed.

 

He doesn’t sleep a wink that night and phones up the local television station. Arranges the interview for later the next day. He moves his hand up his neck and presses it against his lips.

 

He shudders in the wake of him. Everything he ever wanted. None of it real.

 

No doubt Ed thinks he’ll be overcome and overwhelmed by his emotions.

 

A few days ago he might have been. Now he knows better.  

 

Knows that every touch is fleeting and finite, carefully calculated to undo him entirely.

 

Ed gives himself too much credit, as he always has.  

 

Of course, Ed would want to think _that charade_ his first kiss.

 

Oswald is well over thirty, he’s hardly unmeasured. Let Ed think him so if it suits him. It certainly works well in his own favor. He scoffs at the arrogance of it.  

 

The megalomania. The mundanity.

 

Such an ordinary man after all. He’ll pull out all the tricks he learned from Maroni and Falcone. Make himself appear smaller, weaker. Let him be the bigger man. Strike while the ire is hot, seize his passion and take control. Ed runs hot, always has. The trick is to turn it your way without letting it scorch you. Oswald’s own intemperate temperament refracted back.

 

Too much to be one, had to be split into two.

 

He takes out fresh paper and begins drafting Ed’s statements for their interview.

 

_He is the finest man I know. Everything I am I owe to him, he is the making of me._

 

_All my life I’ve felt severed in half but he understand me. He makes me feel whole._

 

_How I lived without him, I’ll never know._

 

Oswald smiles and runs his fingers across the words. Ed really does say the dearest things.

 

And that kiss...if that’s even a fraction of his potential he is well pleased.

 

He suspects it was closer towards the truth near the end there which suits him just fine.

 

He’ll take whatever deceptions he gets for an ounce of desire. Oswald decides to pull another kiss from his tomorrow perhaps during the interview itself. It will be nice to have it on tape so he can play is back over and over. Ideally he would have the real thing by then but he’s sure whatever Ed is planning won’t end well for the both of them.

 

That’s alright, Oswald’s own plans will ensure an equitable exchange for all parties involved.  

 

It’s a shame he’s having another identity crisis but he’ll get over it soon enough and have a new one by next week. In the meantime, Oswald has more important matters to attend to.  

 

He makes his way upstairs, stopping by Ed’s room. The quiet sounds of a loud mind that never rests not even in sleep. Oswald will have to invest in a noise machine something must be done.   

 

But for now the sound is a comfort and he presses his ear against the door, struggling to understand the half-muttered murmurings of his madman.

 

_oswald_

 

Damn. He’s been caught. He moves back from the keyhole, ready to run for it.  There it is again.

 

_oswaldoswaldoswaldoswald come back please_

He smiles and leans up against the door for support. Well. Well.  

 

That does rather change things. For the better, he hopes.

 

Finally retires for the evening, on a pile of clothes on top of the bed.

 

He can’t decide what to wear but what does it matter, what does any of it matter.  

 

Ed is home. Ed wants him to stay.

 

That’s all he ever needed.

 

* * *

 

Their adoring public awaits them. They sit backstage in the green room and go over their story.

 

Ed voices his concerns with the narrative.“No one is ever going to believe you’re a masochist.”  

 

“Allow me to demonstrate.” Oswald shrinks in on himself, eyes wide with false fear. “Oh no the big, bad riddle is coming to get me whatever shall I do.“

 

Ed rolls his eyes.  

 

“No one is going to fall for that.”  

 

“People fall for me all the time, you’re the only exception really. It won’t be hard to convince them. No, the real trouble will be the errant assassins looking to show me their glocks. That reminds me, I need to call Victor. He’ll be able to mitigate the damage somewhat.”

 

Ed’s hand on the switchblade in his pocket. “Who’s Victor?”  

 

“Just an old flame-thrower. We go way back.”

 

Flicks the knife open. “I see. Will I get to meet this man of no importance?”  

 

“He’s not the social type. Only really talks to me and his old man in Miami. Tight-knit family.”  

 

“Ten months. Were we monogamous during this time?”  Festering fear and rage. To the victor goes the spoiled brat. What does Ed care, what does it matter? Let Victor have him. Have him and all of his tantrums and tyranny, his arrogance and assumptions, his lips -  

 

“There’s never been anyone else for me”  

 

No Victor can’t have that. No one can. No one except Ed. He lets out a sigh of something very much like relief. Unsure why it reassures him so much. He doesn’t want this. He needs it but he doesn’t want it. This is for appearances, the lesser of two evils. Though to say that Oswald is the lesser of anything seems disingenuous at best and dangerously deluded at worst.

 

Oswald’s hand slides into his own. It’s not entirely unpleasant. Ed is adjusting gradually, acclimating himself to affection. Prior consent established for small gesture such as this. They held hands the entire ride here to prepare for this. He wasn’t completely repulsed. Progress.

 

Flying in his stomach. Anxiety, apprehension most likely. Possibly a panic episode. His past experiences with nerves aren’t usually quite so fluttery but there’s a first time for everything.  

 

They go over the rest of their romance arc, designed to be as appealing to the masses as possible. Oswald wanted to frame them as star-crossed lovers, torn apart by fate. Ed reminds him that a man makes his own destiny. They decide on a dynamic that suits them both and commit to not getting committed. They are incredibly well prepared. Ed is nervous and fidgeting. Exam day. Oswald rubs his hand reassuringly. “Just breathe alright? I’ll cover for you if necessary.”

 

They are called on for their joint interview and redirect the questions with the ease of two natural politicians. They’ve decided against overt romanticism, settling on an easy camaraderie and a certain way of moving together as one. Oswald reaches for his cup and Ed takes a sip instead.  

 

Ed adjusts his glasses and Oswald mimics the movement. Everything they do in perfect coordination. If you didn’t know better you’d think they planned it. They probably did.

 

The hosts are hardly a challenge. Morning shows never are. Cheerful to a fault.

 

The hostess claps her hands together and leans in. “Now boys, let's forget about legalities and litigation, and all that other boring stuff and let’s talk the L word. L is for liplock.”  

 

Oswald almost spills his water. Ed raises an eyebrow.

 

“This seems a tad invasive. And objectifying. Wouldn’t you rather discuss our policies?”  

 

The hostess and her co-host look at him like he’s sprung a second head.

 

“You don’t think anyone actually cares about that, do you?”  

 

They laugh high pitched and humorless. She lays a condescending hand on Ed’s arm.

 

“Don’t tell me Gotham’s favorite power couple is shy.”

 

He shakes off her touch and opens his mouth to say something that will be edited out later.

 

Oswald pinches his leg beneath the table and recovers his composure.  

 

“We’re just very reserved is all. We prefer to keep somethings to ourselves you understand.”

 

The co-host laughs. “The wife keep ya on a tight leash, huh?  I know how it is.”

 

He claps Oswald on the shoulder in manly solidarity. Oswald looks down at his hand in disgust.

 

Two days from now the cost host will wake up to find his hand sawed off and placed on a velvet pillow. The pillow carried from the house and left outside Ed’s bedroom door.

 

Ed will smile all the way to the taxidermist, his heart suffused with the warm glow that only comes from a truly thoughtful bit of bloodshed.

 

In the meantime, they smile and simper and share a glance. Mutually decide not to murder these people on public television. Tempting though it may be.  

 

Oswald redirects their attention to the case itself. Gotham’s first murder trial with the victim alive and well and testifying on behalf of their would be killer. Unusual, unprecedented.

 

They never did like to make things easy on themselves.

 

The hostess leans in closer, flush with the joy that comes from the misfortune of others.  

 

“So why did you do it, really? Why do that to someone who loves you?”  

 

Ed struggles to find something to say that’s not a complete lie. A flash of blonde.  

 

“It was for love. All of it came from a place of love. It’s the only way we know how.”  

 

Oswald smiles and pats his hand on top of the desk where everyone can see it.  

 

“It may be somewhat unconventional, I grant you but there’s no shame in that. We are who we are and we live our lives as we wish. No one can fault us for that.”  

 

They are hardly the most healthy pair in Gotham but they are certainly not the worst.

 

And if the ratings are any indication they may just pull this off.

 


	2. Confessions

They stand outside the courtroom with Ed’s lawyer lecturing them. Ed’s due to testify today.

 

His freedom rests squarely on his own shoulders and he’s not sure he can carry it much longer. 

 

Oswald tugs on his tie and adjusts his collar for him so he can breathe easier. Matching pinstripe suits for the both of them. Silk ties, silver cufflinks. He always favored Oswald in that suit though he never said as much. Apparently, he didn’t need to as Oswald bought him one to match. The vast majority of Ed’s admiration unspoken but understood nonetheless. The periphery of his personality communicated in a language no one ever bothered to learn. 

 

Oswald seems to have a native ear.  

 

“One last lie. You can do that much, can’t you?”  

 

Ed nods anxiously adjusts his cufflinks and swatting Oswald’s hands away.

 

“I’m fine, stop hovering.”  

 

Oswald takes a step back, hands raised high and sarcastic. “Hovering at a distance.”  

 

Ed ducks his head to hide his smile. “You’re ridiculous.”  

 

“You wouldn’t want me any other way.”

 

_ i want you in ways no one can understand least of all me  _

 

The court is called into session and Ed Nygma takes the witness stand.  

 

Swears, to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but.  

 

So help me, Gotham.  

 

Harvey strolls over casually with his hands in his pockets. “Afternoon, Eddie.”  

 

“It’s Ed.”  

 

“Okie dokie Eddie. Now you seem like an upstanding fellow and I’m sure this is all just a misunderstanding. I’ve got a couple of questions for you and then we’ll send you on your way.” 

 

“The point counselor. Acquire one.”  

 

“Very well.” Harvey drummed his fingers against the wood paneling and leaned in urgently. “How does our dear mayor take his toast?” 

 

“Excuse me?’ 

 

“Just answer the question, please.”  

 

Ed exchanges a bewildered glance with Oswald. 

 

“Buttered with raspberry jam.” 

 

“Coffee?”  

 

“Three sugars.” 

 

“Kiss?”     
  


“I-I-I fail to see the relevance.” 

 

Cyrus stood up. “My client is correct this has absolutely no bearing on the cas-” 

 

“A lover ought to know these things. If in fact, they are lovers which I sincerely doubt.”  

 

Judge Holloway looked at Harvey disapprovingly. “I’m inclined to agree with the defense, this borders on an invasion of privacy and appears to serve no purpose.” 

 

Harvey leaned up against the stand, easy as can be. “Mister Nygma’s defense rests on the supposition that he never intended to harm Mayor Cobblepot. That a man in love may be driven to extremes but ultimately there was no murderous intent on his part. And that I just don’t buy. The defendant has a long, well-documented history of violence and the last person romantically linked to him is now dea-”  

 

Ed’s hand grabbed Harvey by the tie and yanked him down. “ _ She is none of your concern.”   _

 

Harvey gasped for breath and legal resolution. “P-permission to treat the witness as hostile?”  

 

“Granted.”  

 

Harvey grabbed the gavel and smacked him across the face with it. The sound of bone-crunching. Ed’s fingers released him as he howled in pain, clutching his broken nose. 

 

Harvey smiled and straightened his tie. Tossed the gavel back in forth between his hands. 

 

“Now Mister Nygma, we’re going to try this again and you’re going to respect the authority of the court is that understood?”  

 

“Objection! Battering the witness!”  

 

Harvey hit the palm of his hand with the gavel. 

 

“The defense is welcome to take it from me if he can manage it.”  

 

Cyrus looked more than ready to challenge his claim until Oswald glared at him sharply.

 

Trials in Gotham more often than not ended with the defendant scattered across the courthouse steps. Oswald’s hand clenched around his cane. When he bribed the judge, jury and other officers of the court he ensured that Ed’s case wouldn’t end in that manner. Unfortunately, the only men not currently in his pocket were Harvey Dent and Jim Gordon.     
  


He nodded slightly at the judge and she waved away the security guards whose presence was more of a suggestion than anything else. A small hand wave and he let Dent do his work.

 

The actual proceedings were a matter of course, of course, Ed didn’t have to know that.   And as dearly as he loved the man there was something satisfying about the sight of his blood.

 

Oswald smiled suddenly. Maybe Ed’s nose would never reset properly and he’d be marginally less handsome and therefore moderately more attainable.  

 

As he mused the benefits of breaking one of Ed’s legs (matching canes, shared trauma) versus the disadvantages (diminished capacity, injured pride) the stenographer removed a bone fragment off her typewriter and tossed it in the bin with the others.    
  


Harvey smiled pleasantly, every inch the mild-mannered officer of the court even with blood dripping down his class ring. He returned to the witness stand and pulled out the bible Ed had sworn in on. He leafed through the pages with one hand, gavel in the other. He underlined a section with Ed’s blood and handed the book to him. “Mister Nygma would you read this passage aloud to the court?”  

 

He grit his teeth and spat the blood from his mouth into Harvey’s face. Harvey didn’t even blink or wipe it off and simply pressed the book into his hands. 

 

Ed took the book cautiously, the ink burning into his skin. “ ' _S_ _ ee if you can lure him into showing you the secret of his great strength and how we can overpower him so we may tie him up and subdue him _ . ' Bondage, counselor? How pedestrian of you.” 

 

“You’re familiar with the parable of Samson and Delilah, of course. It reads a lot like Mister Cobblepot’s testimony actually. Brutality, betrayal, anguish, and rage. All tragedies are the same.” 

 

“I have never betrayed him, not once. Not ever.”  

 

“You let your love lie bleeding beneath the waves. What kind of man loves like that?”  

 

“You’ve clearly never been in love.”

 

Harvey shrugged neither denying nor confirming. “Enlighten me.” 

 

Ed breathes deeply, resisting the urge to grab this lawyer by the tie once more.   Tempting though not terribly productive.  

 

“Love is a knife to the throat. To be loved is to allow them to cut you and thank them for the pain. Because it’s worth it. Because every scar feels like sanctification.” 

 

“That’s insane.”  

 

“Love makes madmen of us all. Although I think you’ll find us to be quite sane in this regard. For ours is a mutual hysteria. Cruel at times but certainly consensual.”  

 

“There is nothing consensual about a bullet, Mister Nygma. “ 

 

Ed laughed in disbelief. “You don’t know Oswald very well then.”  

 

“Oh? I was under the impression he was reformed.”  

 

“Not carrying a gun in Gotham is self-victimization. Besides, Oswald has certain..inclinations.”  

 

Oswald was steadily turning a rather unflattering shade of purple, looking absolutely furious. Ed’s silent laughter between them.  

 

If he must play the part, he’d be damned before he let Oswald steal the stage.  

 

Ed leaned forward in his chair as if divulging a great secret. 

 

“The gun was his idea, as a matter of fact. A variation on Russian roulette. I’d fire the gun and for every missed shot, I’d earn a kiss or two. Not my favorite of our games but he seemed to like it.” 

 

“And Mister Cobblepot will corroborate these claims?” 

 

“He’d do more than that but well -” Ed held up his handcuffs and shook them. “I am in chains for the time being. Not that that’s usually a deterrent, mind you.”  

 

He sent a saucy wink Oswald's way, delighted to see him visibly shaking with fury. 

 

“If there are no further questions and no other charges to be brought against me -” Ed stretched his legs out over the top of the stand. “I’d like to be released on my own recognizance.”  

 

Harvey knocked his legs down and glared at him. 

 

“Very convenient for you. The most powerful man in Gotham wrapped around your finger.” 

 

Ed smiles quick and clean. “I’m a lucky man.”  

 

“You know I looked into Mister Cobblepot’s financial records recently. He’s made some interesting decisions.” He took a file out of his jacket. “Would you read that line there?”  

 

Ed glanced at the paper disinterestedly. “He’s providing the funding for my legal defense, we’ve made no secret of it. I count myself fortunate to have such a generous partner.”  

 

“So generous in fact, he’s arranged for all of his assets to be transferred to you upon the time of his death. If you would look at the time stamp for that transaction.”  

 

Ed turned the page and paled. Two months ago. The night of their confrontation with Butch. 

 

He locked eyes with him across the room. Oswald looked just as he did then, firelight flickering over that same smile. He should have seen it then and there. He should have done many things. 

 

_ there’s nothing of me you cannot have i’d give it all up to keep you happy, to keep you safe  _

 

“I-I had no prior knowledge of this.”  

 

Harvey laughed and slammed the gavel down right between his fingers, barely avoiding crushing them. “Don't play dumb.  You knew very well that he’d do anything for you.” 

 

“You’re  _ wrong _ .”  

 

Harvey pressed in closer, snarling. “You stripped him of his dignity, robbed him of his autonomy and put a bullet through his back. The only love you’ve ever known is for yourself.”  

 

“ _H_ _ E KILLED US.”  _ Ed’s hands shaking with rage and regret. “He was my friend and I - I loved him. In my way, as much as I am able. That should have been enough for him. He brought this on himself.” 

 

Harvey smiled. “Your honor, I think it’s clear that the defendant with full knowledge and will -”  

 

Oswald tapped his cane against the floor, three times in quick succession. The judge nodded. 

 

“At this time the court is declaring a mistrial. We will reconvene in two weeks time to begin the process of jury selection.”  

 

“This is a gross miscarriage of justice, how can you do this when you know full well that this man is guilty-” Harvey’s eyes widened as he turned around to Oswald. “You. You did this.”

 

Oswald inclined his head in acknowledgment and the bloody gavel hit the floor. 

 

Harvey scrambled frantically to pick it up off the floor, fingers wet and red and useless. 

 

Oswald stepped over the gavel, his shoes pressed against Harvey’s spine as he walked over him

 

He held out his handkerchief to Ed and pressed it up against his broken nose and made a soft, sympathetic noise. He leaned in close and tucked a curl behind his ear. “I regret that he did that to you. Would you like me to shoot him for you, here and now? No one will mind.”  

 

Ed sneered and shoved the bloody handkerchief back into Oswald’s hand. 

 

“How long did you expect your little mock trial to hold?” 

 

Oswald shrugged easily. “A couple of months at the least. Or until you wavered.”  

 

“Haven’t you punished me enough?”  

 

“This isn’t punishment this is confession. And I have you under oath now - you love me.” Oswald smiled, utterly delighted. “You always have and always will, this proves it.” 

 

Ed hummed noncommittedly and ran his fingers through Oswald’s hair. He sighed and pressed up into the touch. Ed pulled sharply and twisted his hair and he cried out in pain. 

 

Ed smirked. “Your Honor, I demand a trial by combat.” 

 

“Mister Nygma, I do not advise you to-”  

 

Oswald’s eyes narrowed. “Name your terms.”  

 

“The restitution will be televised. Tomorrow night. Gotham News Studio. “ 

 

Oswald nodded. “I accept, provided I chose the weapons.”    
  


 

“See you at the temple, philistine.” Ed tugged harshly and released him.   
  


 

He left him there in the courthouse and walked out into the afternoon light. 

 

The jury murmured and the judge looked at him consideringly Oswald hit his cane against the floor once more. “Out! All of you, this instant!”  

 

They fled the scene as quickly as they could. Only Harvey and Jim remained.

 

Oswald sighed and leaned against the witness stand, waving them off half-heartedly. 

 

“I said go. That includes you sorry lot.”  

 

Harvey wiped the blood off the gavel and set it down carefully in its proper place. 

 

“I’m not going anywhere. Bribing judges, intimidating the court - what’s next?” 

 

He snorted and pulled a flask from his coat pocket. “Don’t give me ideas, counselor.”  

 

Jim took the flask from his hand and dumped it out on the side. “Not the time or place to drink.” 

 

“This is precisely the time.” He snatched the flask from his hands and drank what little remained. “The man I love is going to kill me. Again. I intend to get thoroughly trashed. “

 

Jim clapped Oswald on the shoulder. “Fine. Just not here. Harvey, you coming or not?”  

 

“I’m not paying for The Penguin’s booze.”  

 

“Course not. Drinks are on him.”  

 

Harvey sighed, resigned to his fate. They found their way to the lounge in short time and Oswald poured them both whiskeys before collapsing into a booth with a bottle of burgundy. He drank directly from the bottle, all pretense and pride drained from him. Ed had a way of bringing out the worst in him. Or the best. Depending on the time of day. In any case, the man distilled him down to his clearest form and it was discomforting. Ed saw him, all of him. And he loved him. At least he used to. It was too good to last. Oswald should have known better than to think anything gold could stay.

 

He drank deeply and Harvey and Jim exchanged worried glances.

 

“What are you going to do to him?” Harvey asked not entirely sure he wanted the answer.  

 

“The better question is what will we do to each other. And we will do as we have always done and always will - consume the things we love until nothing remains.” 

 

Jim shook his head. “It doesn’t have to be like this. You’re better than this.”  

 

Oswald laughed. “Have you finally accepted that I am your better? Good of you to catch on, can’t say I’m surprised that it took you so long. You’ve always been a bit slow.” 

 

“And you’ve never been more wrong.” Jim sighed and put down his drink. “You can’t blackmail someone into loving you."

 

“Every man has his price.” Oswald looked off into the distance, thinking of the sharp sting of Ed’s smile. He would give anything to keep it. His safety, his sanity. His very soul.

 

“He can’t be bought.”  

 

_ i can’t be bought but i can be stolen with a glance  _

 

Oswald’s eyes snapped to Jim, sudden and desperate. “What did you say?”  

 

Jim can’t know, can’t possibly know the ache and the fever in that word. 

 

“I said your blood money's no good here. Let this drop, for both your sakes.”  

 

“What would you have me do? I won’t give him up, not after everything.”  

 

Harvey slid a folder across the table. “Sign the plea deal. Get a fair trial for what he did to you, stop letting him rule your life and walk away.”  

 

Oswald took the folder and accompanying pen. He bent the ink to paper, writing all over. 

 

He passed it back to Harvey, it’s covered in corrections and annotations. 

 

“Is this really what you want?” Harvey asks, unsettled by the things he’s reading. 

 

Oswald shakes his head. “Not quite. There’s just one more thing.” 

 

“What more could you possibly ask for?”  

 

He smiles, slow and sure. 

 

“A sacrificial lamb.”  

 

* * *

  
  


“Ladies, gentlemen and Gothamites thank you for tuning into the murder of Oswald Cobblepot.” Ed smiled into the camera, green and gory in all of his glory. “Tonight’s broadcast is brought to you by The Riddle Factory, your one stop shop for sin and sinister intention. Riddle me this, folks: what’s black and white and dead all over? That’ll be the flightless wonder himself. Everyone give a hand for - The Penguin!” Ed gestured with a flourish and the captive audience applauded against their will. The curtains opened to a bare stage. 

 

Ed spun on his heels, looking every which way. Oswald should be here, he was supposed to be here. He gave his word, they would end this properly. A duel like gentlemen. It seems Ed was the only one here with the slightest sense of honor. No matter. He had made alternate arrangements. 

 

Ed turned back around to the camera, swinging his vintage microphone on the stand. “Well, it appears we’re having some technical difficulties. Oswald seems to think he can get off on a technicality. And that’s just not the case now is it?” The audience booed. “Now, now let’s not be hasty - perhaps he’s held up in traffic or held up at gunpoint. In any case, we’ve got games and gore in store for you tonight - who’s ready to play _ DOOOOOOOUBLE JEOPARDY _ ???” 

 

The crowd went wild as electricity shot through their seats. Ed smiled at the faint smell of singeing flesh as those who survived clapped frantically. He whistled and his assistants rolled in the stocks. A large row of twelve nooses all nicely lined up and ready to drop. 

 

Ed walked into the audience and leaned against the railing. “Mister Santiago, you were a member of my jury is that correct?” The man did not respond in words so much as incoherent screaming. Ed laughed and kicked him, spikes popping out from the heels of his shoes. The man howled in pain and Ed continued on blithely unaware of his state. “Now sir as you are well aware, I won my case. And once you have been found not guilty of a crime you can never be charged for that crime again. What is this legal term known as?”  

 

“D-double jeopardy.” The woman sitting next to the man whispered, her eyes on the floor. Ed smiled kindly at her and hit the button for the trap door as she fell down into the pit below.  

 

“That was technically correct! But not your turn. No speaking unless spoken to everyone, is that understood?” He took the shrieks of terror as assent and continued. “Now Double Jeopardy’s the name and Double Jeopardy is the game. Because I have been found innocent I can never be charged for killing The Penguin again - which means I am now free to kill him with impunity!!!”  

 

Ed pumped his fists in victory and celebratory music played over the speakers. He cut them off with a sharp turn of his wrist. He leaned in close to Mister Santiago. “But my prize bird isn’t here so I guess I’ll just have to settle for you and the rest. Boys! Bring me the jury, box em up tight!”  

 

He dragged Mister Santiago down the steps by his ear and onto the stage, pushing him up onto the stocks. “Put that around your neck now, nice and good. Yes, yes, you all look swell.”  

 

The rest of the jury was neatly arranged up beside him with nooses around their necks, many of them crying. Ed winked at the camera. “Now that’s what I call a  _ hung jury _ .” He laughed and wiped a tear from his eyes, smiling maniacally. “Here’s how it goes: for every twenty minutes that passes without my feathered fiend beside me I’ll make a jury selection. Choose one of you at random. Answer my riddle correctly and you die. Answer it incorrectly and you die slowly. Any questions?” They screamed and begged for mercy. “Excellent. Now you folks at home can play too - whoever brings me my bird gets to decide how these good people die. You can even spare them if you like.” Ed stared down the camera, eyes black and empty. “Come back old friend, come get what you deserve.”  

 

Oswald watched the broadcast from behind the cell bars of the G.C.P.D lockup. Jim glared at him and swung open the door, pulling him up by the handcuffs. “Get up, you got a guest appearance.” 

 

“The deal I made with Dent -”  

 

“Screw the deal. I’m not letting innocent people die so you can prove a point to your boyfriend.”  

 

“Not my boyfriend.”  

 

Jim dragged Oswald out of the station and shoved him into the back of his car, jamming the key in the ignition. “I don’t care what you call it, you need to fix this before anyone else gets hurt.”

 

“I just want it to be over.”

 

Jim sighed as he rushed through traffic and started to say something dismissive when he caught a glance at him through the glass in the back. He had never seen him like this. He never wanted to see it again.

 

 

“So finish it. For good.”  

 

* * *

  
  


“Symbiosis.”  

 

The buzzer went off indicating that was the correct answer and Ed smiled gleefully.  

 

“Well done! Unfortunately, your answer needed to be framed in the form of a question so I’m afraid we’re gonna have to let you go.” Ed pulled the lever and their body dropped. “Thanks for playing and nice try. Anybody else up for a round?’ The jury remained silent, afraid to say anything less they would attract his attention. ”No takers? C’mon people, it's almost as if you don’t enjoy our little games.”  

 

“I doubt there’s anyone in the world who enjoys your games.”  

 

Ed turned around and grinned as Oswald stepped onto the stage. He hopped down from the platform, uncaring for the jury still swinging. He only ever wanted an audience of one. 

 

“Took you long enough, I was starting to think you stood me up.” 

 

Something flashed behind Oswald’s eyes, an old pain never fully addressed. 

 

“My apologies. I can’t imagine how it must feel to be left hanging.” He eyed the jury conspicuously. Ed laughed and gestured for them to be released.

 

“You know I only ever want to play with you, Ozzie. Just killing some time, some civilians. Now that you’re here the real fun begins.” Ed whistled and one of his assistants wheeled out a table full of weaponry. Pistols, poisons, swords and such. “Go on then, what’ll it be?”  

 

Oswald ran his hands consideringly over the foils and Ed could barely contain his anticipation.  

 

He knew of Oswald’s swordsmanship and his weekly attendance of the Diogenes fencing club. He had always hoped they would cross swords someday although he had imagined it under entirely different circumstances. He thought Oswald would teach him a lesson or two. It seemed it would be quite the other way around now and the inversal of power was delightful.  

 

Oswald picked up a saber and took up a fighter’s stance, the weapon in hand as natural an extension of himself as any of his canes. It suited him very well. Perhaps a little too well. 

 

Ed wanted to win after all. 

 

Oswald must have noticed his discomfort because he smiled, the shine of it reflecting off the blade. “Another time perhaps. I had something else in mind for us tonight actually.”  

 

He snapped his fingers and some of his own men appeared, Ed tensed expecting a retaliation. 

 

Instead, they merely set up a table, chairs and a chessboard.    
  


 

Oswald pulled out Ed’s seat for him. “Shall we?” Ed sat down, somewhat confused but unwilling to let the opportunity pass him by. He had been hoping for a little more bloodshed tonight but he’d abide by the terms of their agreement. For now. 

 

“Are you sure that’s how you want to play it?” Ed picked up his king, idly touching the scepter. “I do have you at somewhat of a disadvantage.” 

 

In all their time living together, Oswald had always refused him a match claiming no interest.

 

That wasn’t strictly true, though was it? 

 

Oswald looked smug. “If you don’t think you’re up  to the task-” 

 

Ed moved his pawn. “Play the game.”  

 

Oswald sat down with a flourish the tail of his coat swept behind him.  

 

He rearranged the board, till everything was in order. “How was my funeral?” Oswald inquired with idle curiosity, as though it scarcely mattered at all. “I hope that it was tasteful.”  

 

The corner of Ed’s lips lifted in a reluctant smile. As they play, he describes the opulent and lavish affair, the guests clamoring for a look at him, the ice sculptures and the lilies. Lilies everywhere. Oswald conceals a tear at that and Ed graciously looks away. As Ed speaks his hands move expressively and Oswald chimes in with the occasional approving noise, his attention on the board. Ed was such a clever man always one step ahead. Not far enough.

 

“And of course, the Falcones set a representative to pay their respects. I didn’t catch her name.” 

 

Oswald nods at the guest list, pleased yet unsurprised. He moved his bishop across the board. 

 

“And the eulogy? Let me hear it.” 

 

Ed rolls his eyes.  “I told them you were a vain old man who’d sooner die than be seen without his hair done or his precious suits. Now are you satisfied or should I describe your next funeral?”

 

Oswald paused, a piece in hand and his heart stuttered. “Ah, yes well I suppose there are worst ways to go. To die by your hand is a privilege and all that. How will you grieve for me?” 

 

Ed’s blood turned cold. “I never - never stopped mourning, I scarcely had the time you returned so suddenly. Will I ever be rid of you?” He said that at as if he never wanted them to be parted.  

 

“If you kill me you will lose me.” Oswald looked shrewd and calculating. “No one will ever love you as I have loved you, no one will know you as I do. You’ll be left with nothing. Again.” 

 

“And whose fault is that, exactly?” Ed said dryly. “You made a ruin of us.”  

 

“We had a life together, a home. I gave you everything you could possibly desire - why do you deny me the one thing that I ask for, why do you deny yourself?” Oswald reached for his hand across the table, imploring only to be ignored. “Happiness is ours for the taking, do you know how rare that is for men like us?”  

 

“I was happy. You robbed me of that. I can’t give you what you want, surely you see that now.” 

 

“Can’t or won’t?” Oswald said sharply as he moved his queen. “You’re a tease, Edward. You made me love you and then you taunted me with it.” 

 

“I did nothing of the kind. You’re deluding yourself if you think someone could want you.” 

 

Ed smiled, thoroughly pleased with himself and the pain he was inflicting. It was regrettably the most attractive look on him by Oswald’s estimation. At least when it wasn’t aimed at himself. Hurt flared in his chest and he pushed past it. Ed didn’t mean that and even if he did there were more important things to focus on. 

 

Ed had lost sight of the game. His moves less calculated and precise. Erratic and unstable. 

 

Oswald had the man right where he wanted him. At last.  

 

He maintains his composure as best he can. “Of the two of us, I think you’ll find you’re the one more inclined to delusions. Hallucinations if you want to get technical.”  

 

Ed breathed heavily, anger thinly veiled. “You accessed my Arkham files. You had no right.”  

 

“Mine is the only right. Don’t forget darling, I own you.” Oswald shook his head in self-admonishment. “I never should have let you out of that cage of yours. Stripes suit you so.”  

 

Ed raised his pawn thoughtfully. “Why not lock me up when you had the chance? You certainly have plenty of places, you could have tucked me away before I even met her.”  

 

“I wanted you to choose me.” Another move and he’d have him in a corner.

 

Ed laughed at the absurdity of the statement and Oswald frowned. That wasn’t in the plan at all.

 

“What do you find so terribly amusing about that, hmm? Forgive me for respecting your choice.”

 

Ed’s laughter eventually receded and something else took its place. “You remind me of someone that’s all. Myself actually. I was in a similar predicament once with Miss Kringle.” 

 

“Do tell.” Oswald had stopped paying attention as soon as the woman’s name was mentioned.

 

He knew full well that the very thought of her could leave Ed addled for hours at a time and while he found the notion irritating it did suit him well for these purposes.

 

Ed continued on, oblivious to his disinterest in the topic. “Yes, however unlike you I was saving her from someone completely unsuitable. You had no such higher ideals.”  

 

Oswald bit the inside of his cheek. “Was this before or after you killed her in cold blood?”

 

“Irrelevant.” Ed waved his hand dismissively. “It’s the principle of the thing.”  

 

“You’ve always been a man of principles  _ Riddler.  _ “ Oswald scoffed at the notion that the man was any better than himself in that respect. They were just as bad as each other.

 

They deserved each other and he wasn’t entirely sure that was a good thing.  

 

Ed sat in suspension, utterly stunned. “Say that again.”  

 

“Oh I’ll gladly say it a hundred times - you’re a hypocrite, Edward and a nasty one at that.”

 

“No, no no not that say - say my name.” Ed’s voice laced with quiet desperation and yearning.

 

Oswald smiles. “As you please,  _ Riddler. _ ” He looks down at the board. “Check.”

 

Ed barely seems to hear him, far far too high on the recognition and respect. It’s all he ever wanted from him - to be acknowledged as a equal well before he was an enemy.

 

The field never fully level between them finally level. That pedestal he had placed him on for so long and then ripped out from under him disappeared leaving only this marvelous game of two.

 

He returned his attention to the board, with the  The Rubinstein Maneuver in mind only to find himself at wit’s end. “What on earth have you done?” He asked in utter confusion, quickly scanning the board or any possible exit strategy. There’s none to be found. Ed moves his rook.

 

“Something I should have done a long time ago.” Oswald moves his final piece. “Checkmate.”

 

“You played me.” Ed breaks down into hysterical laughter, voice high and reedy and entirely too needy. “Every time I think I have you - you just - you-” He flips over the board, scattering pieces to the ground and pulling Oswald across the table by his tie and grabbing his cheek. He turns his face to the side with reverence and awe. “What I wouldn’t give to see the inside of your skull.” 

 

As far as declarations go, that’s the best Oswald is likely to get. He presses his cheek into Ed’s hand and smiles up at him, giddy with relief. “You’re not angry with me for tricking you?”  

 

Ed shakes his head, fingers tracing the lines of the cheekbone and reaching up for the crinkles between his eyes. He wants to get inside his marrow, wants to unravel and undo him.

 

_ i'll never solve you, my greatest mystery, my greatest joy  _

 

“You cheated.” Ed says fondly. “You clever little minx.” His hands dance across his forehead, pushing aside his fringe and he leans in and presses their foreheads together as if he can somehow absorb him through touch alone. “I could never be angry with you. You’re  _ me _ .”  

 

”You will be when you hear what I’ve done.” Oswald pulls back as much as he can while still maintaining contact. “You’ll be furious.”  

 

Ed quirks an eyebrow. “What’s that then? What have you got up those tailored sleeves of yours?” 

“I turned myself in for the murder of Isabella.”  


 

Ed’s grip on his skin turns just this side of possessive. “And why would you do such a thing?”

 

“Atonement. Apology. Take your pick. I certainly didn’t do it for her sake.”

 

“Run away with me.” Ed says half joking and half not, not entirely cognizant of what he means.

 

Oswald releases him reluctantly yet utterly firm in his decision. He only regrets he didn’t do it sooner or better yet never killed her at all. The woman has proved to be a massive inconvenience even in death. “No. No this is something I need to do for you whether you like it or not.”

 

The sounds of sirens in the distance come closer and come between them.

 

“I’ll break you out then. Easy. I’m not letting you waste away in there.”  

 

“I doubt you’ll be in a position to do much of anything about it.”

 

“Pray tell why is that?”

 

Oswald smiles and it’s the most awful thing.  “You’re coming with me, of course.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed, drop me a message at -  
> tumblr: happygoloony  
> twitter:happygoloverly

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: happygoloony


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